Autobiography
by castlenova
Summary: A fluffy one-shot with CASKETT. Castle gets asked to write a different kind of book by his publishers and he's not happy about it. Beckett finds out why. Rated for one or two descriptions but think K  is high enough.


_This was just a nice, fluffy idea I had when I was reading a biography recently. I know I still have another chapter or two to do on 'Catch a Tiger' but this popped into my head and I couldn't let it go to waste._

_I also have a small idea for some Xmas fluff which I'll put up before the big day along with the final chapter for CATBTT._

_Enjoy and leave a review – it's Christmas after all._

_CASTLE CASTLE CASTLE_

Beckett tapped away at her paperwork while Castle ventured to the break room to make coffee. He had taken to coming in even though he knew they had no case. He'd even undertaken to do some of the paperwork for her, just to try and help. Mostly though he was there for comic relief. He'd read through a case file, snort at something and off their questioning deliver a well thought out story as to why their witness was hanging one-footed from a fire escape ladder wearing his under wear and a set of swimming armbands.

Beckett was concentrating on reading a way too long number when she heard the phone ringing. It was the A-Team ring tone which could only mean one thing – Castle had left his phone on her desk. She frowned but said nothing. When there was no sign of him coming to get it she picked it up ready to answer it if it was Alexis or Martha. When she saw the photograph of Gina on the screen she immediately decided against that.

Instead she rose and headed for the break room. He looked up when she came in, holding up his phone. He took it from her and his face fell as he saw the caller ID. Beckett left him alone to take the call, grabbing the mug of coffee he had made for her and heading back out to the bullring. She tried not to think about the fact that Castle's ex-wife, ex-girlfriend was calling him when she was pretty sure he wasn't working on a book. She tried not to think at all because, she realised that despite whatever dream scenario she had in her head about the two of them, it wasn't real and she had no right to get possessive of him when she was unable to tell him that she wanted to be his.

She sat back down and turned her head back to the paperwork, only so often glancing into the break room where he seemed to be talking animatedly on the phone. She caught Esposito catching her and they both looked away back to their work.

CASTLE CASTLE CASTLE

Beckett heard the irritated sigh before she felt his presence as he sank back down in his chair dropping the phone on the desk with a loud thud. She smiled thinly.

"And what exactly did my desk do to you?"

Castle looked at her. He had so many answers to that question. What did her desk do to him? Hmmm, once or twice a week it made cameo appearances in his dreams when she let him do the cheesy dream manoeuvre of sweeping everything off of it and doing her right then and there. That was only when the desk in his own study was on a sick day or annual leave.

"Gina," he said finally, "My publisher wants me to write my autobiography and Gina's really pushing me on it."

Beckett's eyebrows raised.

"Why are you not really excited by this? Richard Castle, given 500 pages to talk about himself, seems like your dream project." She smirked as he looked up at her and he knew that she was only ribbing him. But she still didn't quite understand where he was coming from.

"The thing is, writers don't write autobiographies. Or they do but then they never write anything ever again. It's like their final words before they die. I have no intention of dying and I'm still in like the dawn of my career…"

At that one, Beckett raised an eyebrow so he corrected himself, "Ok then maybe it's about lunchtime but still, I've got plenty left."

Beckett smiled, nodding, understanding where he was coming from.

"I see what you mean Castle. Just…tell her no."

"I wish it were that simple." Castle said before picking up the file he'd been working on, signalling that he wanted to move away from the conversation. Beckett happily turned back to her too-long number. After a second, she dropped her pen exasperated.

"Esposito, this phone number has two too many digits!"

CASTLE CASTLE CASTLE

Beckett wasn't sure where Castle had gone or how long he'd gone for but one thing she knew for certain was that she needed caffeine and fast. Picking up her cup she headed for the break room before realising that Castle was on the phone in there. Biting her bottom lip she debated whether to go in or not. The door was open just a peep so she crept in quietly, he had his back to her and was speaking quite sharply on the phone.

"….Gina, I'm saying 'no' ok? I'm not doing it."

Beckett smiled. She couldn't help picturing a spoilt twelve year old refusing to play on the swings with his sister. But he was one of those twelve year olds that you couldn't dislike.

"…..Because I'm not putting my daughter's private life on paper. I'm not putting Kate's on it either…."

Beckett stopped at that. She took a step back. She definitely wanted to hear this but she knew that if he became aware of her presence, he'd clam up.

"….Because I know you Gina, and I know the publishers and they're going to want the details of her mother's case and I'm not doing that to her…..that's different, it's fiction…..Well I'll have Paula find me another publisher then. You don't own the rights to Nikki Heat, I can very easily up and go somewhere else and you know it….. Yeah, well tell them whatever you want. I'm not writing it."

With that he hung up and she heard him take a deep breath and sigh. She bit her lip and took a step further into the room. The movement startled him and he turned to her, his face falling slightly then reshaping his smile.

"Gina?" Beckett asked and he nodded.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know that your stubbornness is probably going to win over your publisher," she smiled and he smirked.

"I'm not writing it. I'm not putting my family through that level of public scrutiny," he said as she prodded at the coffee machine, trying to do something to stop her from blurting out something about how he'd mentioned her too or was he considering as part of the collective term?

He reached in past her and pushed two buttons, pushing her cup underneath the pourer and standing back.

"Really Beckett, it's not rocket science," he joked and she punched him in the ribs. She turned and looked at him, swallowing and taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He frowned.

"For working the coffee machine?"

"No. For not wanting to put the worst part of my life story in yours," she said, catching her lip in between her teeth. He nodded and smiled.

"You heard that, huh?"

She nodded. He reached past her and slotted his own coffee mug into the machine, tapping a couple of buttons and watching as the steam rose from it. Beckett wondered if his silence was an indication that she had snooped too far. He took his cup back and sipped, before turning his stance to lean against the countertop next to her.

"You want to know something amusing?" he asked and she nodded though she was half afraid it was going to be one of those 'I thought I could trust you but can't' moments. He continued.

"When I was a kid I used to think about writing my autobiography. Well, kid, teenager, when I first got into writing. I had all these dreams and wishes and sometimes I'd daydream about writing about those in my life story. Then one day, probably after I wrote my first novel and discovered the true face of crime writing, all those daydreams stopped. I forgot about it." He took another sip of his coffee and stared ahead at the wall. Beckett swallowed.

"Castle, I'm sorry I overheard, I should have left you some privacy."

He laughed at that and shook his head.

"No, it's fine…You know, when Gina phoned me this morning, for a fleeting moment after hanging up on her I went back to those daydreams. Winning an award, writing a bestseller, getting my first paycheque and for a few minutes I thought 'yeah, maybe I should write this.' And then I thought of you."

Beckett froze and looked at him.

"Me?"

"Yeah. And Alexis. And my mother, though somehow I think she would handle the extra attention a little too well…."

Beckett laughed at that. Martha was certainly one for having a crowd around her. She hoped to enjoy life half as much as her when she was her age.

"I realised that for the last while I have been daydreaming about some of that autobiography in my head. And the part I've been daydreaming about is the part where I'm sitting at home in the loft writing, when I hear a key turning in the door. When it opens, you're on the other side of it. And you're at home too." He swallowed hard then, as if coming out of a daze and suddenly realising that you've just said something so completely off the record that not even you are allowed to talk about it. He bit his lip and took a deep breath, moved as though to speak and then stopped again. He clasped his hands and Beckett smiled. It was one of his nervous things she'd noticed.

She reached down and slid her hand into one of his panicking ones. He turned and looked at her, a question in his eyes.

"I think I like that chapter," she said softly and his eyes lit up slightly.

"Yeah?" he stuttered.

"Yeah. You're right though, now's not the time to write it…" She watched as his face fell slightly before he nodded his head, seemingly resigned to the fact that once again he was being told to back off and wait. She smirked when she knew his eyes had averted to the floor.

"…I mean, there's no way you're going to trick me into moving in with you for at least a year," she said coyly and watched as he looked up, the bright look returned to his eyes. He looked at her and chuckled.

"Oh Detective Beckett, don't underestimate the powers of a high ceiling loft on the best street in the city," he grinned and she squeezed his hand.

He leaned across and brushed his lips off of hers softly before she parted her lips and invited him in. They kissed in the break room, worrying nothing about potential onlookers. And as they broke for air, the little Rick in Castle's head began writing his autobiography again.


End file.
